


Propositions

by twisted_sheets



Series: Orbis non Sufficit [1]
Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: AU, Canon is your warning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisted_sheets/pseuds/twisted_sheets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreseden Files AU: Most of the time, Takaba Akihito does his best to avoid Asami Ryuuichi. Really, he does. It’s not his fault that at nearly every investigation he does for work and for other, magic-y things, he finds Asami somehow entangled in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Propositions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunflower1343](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower1343/gifts).



 

Most of the time, Takaba Akihito does his best to avoid Asami Ryuuichi. Really, he does. It’s not his fault that at nearly every investigation he does for work and for _other, magic-y things_ , he finds Asami somehow entangled in it.  
  
Yet here he is, in Asami’s office up in Club Sion, watching the man with far more interest than he should. One of Japan’s richest and most powerful man, Asami Ryuuichi is also rather attractive, almost inhumanly so, with sharp, bright amber eyes that sees too much for comfort, dark brown hair that curled at his brow and turned a bit messy when wet, a body that could have served as model for Michelangelo’s David, and a sensuous, clever mouth that could whisper the filthiest things one moment then casually order someone to death in another.  
  
Takaba knows there’s a running bet in the supernatural community on whether Asami’s human or not. Some guesses were he’s some kind of Halfling, or maybe from the vampiric White or Jade Court, a demigod, a satyr, or in one Takaba likes the most, (a lecherous) kappa. Takaba distances himself from such speculation. They’re all idiots, anyway, to not see something not as plain as day. For good or ill, Asami is all human.  
  
A human far too involved with the supernatural, and, unfortunately, in Takaba’s personal and professional life. And though Asami has no supernatural powers, that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. In many, _many_ ways, Asami is far more of a threat than most otherworldly forces in this world, with his vast reach and resources and influence. Which is why it’s also part of the reason that while Takaba can probably take Asami down if he wanted this up close, he is reluctant to do so, and is wary every time their paths cross.  
  
Like right now. “How many times do I have to tell you, Asami?” Takaba glared at Asami from across the room, his fingers digging into the leather couch in an effort to keep himself from blasting the interfering, fucking asshole out of existence. He’s tired and hungry from an all-day stakeout that had very little payout, and he does not need this shit. “I am not your personal wizard. Fuck it, I’m not even really one. Get someone else to do this for you. Get an omnyouji or a shrine priest. I’m sure you can afford it.”  
  
“It’s not a matter of expense, Takaba,” Asami drawls. “It is more a matter of skill.” The bastard’s lips curl to a smirk around his cigarette, before blowing a trail of smoke that drifted lazily in the chill air. Takaba’s fingers twitched, suddenly in want of a cigarette of his own and a distraction from memories of the things that sensual mouth had done to him in the past. “Despite appearances, you seem to be quite capable in such matters.”  
  
Takaba bristles at his words, his no doubt insincere flattery of his skill, and nearly gives in to the desire to curse the man a hundred times over. “Fuck you, asshole.” He stood up abruptly, and felt a sharp thrill of satisfaction when Kirishima and Suoh gave a brief, almost imperceptible start, before subtly shifting to defensive stances.  
  
“Takaba-san, I suggest you sit down, please.” Placating as Kirishima’s words are, his tone and body language are laced with threats. Silent sentries to Asami during most of their conversations, he and Suoh would rip him to pieces should he truly intend to harm their boss, Takaba doesn’t doubt. Suoh’s broad, hulking mass and Kirishima’s lupine stare behind glinting glasses probably unnerved anyone they came in contact with, intimidating and discouraging any…rash actions.  
  
Snorting in amusement, Takaba plops down, crossing his arms across his chest. Once again, he could feel the strong wards in Asami’s office pressing against him, a thick fire blanket to smother any spell Takaba would attempt cast before it could do any damage, another part of the formidable defense Asami has against supernatural threats.  
  
Takaba doesn’t know whether to be pleased or disturbed or even care Asami would think enough of him to be considered as a threat.  
  
“I don’t see why you’re so resistant to my proposal,” Asami says, coolly tapping his cigarette against the ashtray, stray sparks spilling onto table. Beside him, Suoh and Kirishima relax into wary alertness. “You’re already investigating the matter at the request of Moriyama-san. With my resources at your disposal, you could close the matter faster and more efficiently.”  
  
Repressing a start of surprise that Asami knew about Moriyama-san, Takaba snarls, “Fuck _off_. Why the hell do you even know that? That isn’t any of your business.”  
  
Asami narrows his eyes, amber-gold eyes gleaming. “But it is my business. Or have you forgotten on whose behalf Moriyama approached you for?”  
  
Takaba glares at Asami, but says nothing, and inwardly berates himself. Dammit. He should really have known better than to let Asami persuade him to have this talk. Or to have let himself convince to take this case in the first place.  
  
Takaba has rarely undertaken any investigation involving the supernatural for many reasons, but one visit to his grandparents’ shrine in Kanagawa, there had been a frail, but dignified old man, bent and stooped as a question mark, petitioning his grandfather for help.  
  
He had a granddaughter, his only family left, who had killed herself in her bed in Tokyo, both her wrists slashed. Not exactly an unusual circumstance, sadly, but the old man, Moriyama Keiichi, is firmly convinced that she had been murdered.  
  
It’s hard to refuse someone asking for help when they prostrate themselves before you, begging in tears for your aid. It’s doubly hard when it’s an old man who has pretty much lost every loved one he has.  
  
Takaba didn’t find out Moriyama Keiko’s connection to Asami until he discovered she worked for one of his exclusive men’s clubs as some sort of host, which led him to also discover that three girls in that club had also committed suicide, one in a similar manner to Moriyama-san’s granddaughter. Takaba doesn’t believe it’s a coincidence.  
  
And it appears, neither does Asami.  
  
Asshole that he maybe, Asami looks after his employees, and his interests. If someone is going around murdering his employees by somehow compelling them to commit suicide, and thus challenging his control and authority, he’s not going to take that lying down.  
  
 _Fuck_. On one hand, Asami’s right. With Asami’s resources and influence, Takaba would make better headway with his investigation and find out what’s going on and prevent it from happening to other girls. On the other hand, he’d be working for Asami, and he’s pretty sure if he found out who the culprit is, Asami is going to take decisive, _fatal_ action, and Takaba’s also pretty sure he doesn’t want blood in his hands.  
  
Of course, there’s also the chilling possibility it’s Asami himself who is behind these deaths.  
  
Takaba takes a breath before saying firmly, meeting Asami’s frank gaze head-on, “I’m not working for you, Asami.”  
  
Asami steeples his fingers and leans forward, eyes intent. “Is there nothing I can do to persuade you?” he says, his voice almost a purr, dark and rich in innuendo.  
  
To his frustration, Takaba blushes at Asami’s tone, knowing full well what sort of persuasion Asami had in mind. It’s a vivid memory he can’t seem to shake, and Takaba’s glad he’s wearing loose cargo pants or else Asami would know just how fucking vivid those memories are. “Go to hell, Asami. Not everyone’s a fucking nympho like you.”  
  
“Satyromaniac.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Asami smirks at Takaba’s confusion. “Nymphomaniac is the term for women. Satyromaniac is for men.”  
  
Takaba stares at him for a moment. “Figures you’d know, you pervert,” he mutters. “Whatever,” he says loudly. He stands up slowly, so as not to alarm Asami’s guards (not that he gives a fuck, but still). “Are we done?” He wants to go home and eat and sleep already. His stomach is already hurting for being near-empty for so long.  
  
“Almost.” When Takaba looks sharply at him, Asami raises one brow. “I promised I would provide you with information about the young women if you would come with me and talk, have you forgotten?” Asami smiles at Takaba’s answering scowl. He did forget, dammit. “You must be hungrier than I thought from your stakeout of the minister. Perhaps dinner is in order?”  
  
Takaba’s snappy “I’m not hungry!” is cut short by the low growl of his stomach. Fighting back another blush, he growls out, “Fine! You’re paying. Now let’s get this fucking over with.” And he all but stomps out of the room, firmly ignoring Asami’s chuckle of amusement.  
  
\------  
  
As it plays out, _dinner_ turns out to be _him_ , flushed and spread out over the sushi restaurant’s tatami mats, blunt nails digging into the straw as Asami devours him with gorging kisses, taking delight in seemingly sucking the very breath out of him, leaving Takaba panting and wanting more, driving him to bite Asami’s bottom lip in mute appeal. Their skin is slick with sweat, burning to touch. Holding him with in bruising, possessive grip, Asami impales him with brutal efficiency, sliding in hot and deep and hard, and Takaba arches and thrusts back to him with obscene groans of delirious pleasure. Asami snares his fingers in his hair and pulls, baring his neck to him. He bites him near his pulse, and Takaba comes with a hoarse cry.  
  
When it’s all over and the rosy fog has cleared from Takaba’s mind, he asks the first of his questions. “Did you have them killed, Asami?”  
  
“Do you think I did, Takaba?” Asami says with lazy amusement.  
  
Takaba looks over at him with hooded eyes. “Just checking,” he replies. He’d find out soon enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sunflower-san over at LJ. 
> 
> So. Does anyone here want me to continue this AU (…stop giving me that look)? If you have questions, if you want to know what happens next, etc., feel free to ask! I honestly don’t know if I’ll continue this, negl.
> 
> Takaba isn’t strictly an onmyouji or a wizard. He does have the abilities and skills of both, but he isn’t a member of the White Council, nor is a full-fledged onmyouji, nor does he consider himself as any of both. If you asked him what his real occupation is, he’d answer ‘investigative photographer/journalist’, which is the truth and a lie at the same time. *wink* Asami is pretty much…Asami (he’s a mortal human here). Kirishima and Suoh are…not exactly what they seem to be, either.


End file.
